Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (20 page)

Their first
contract was with the Aegai—a race whose physical prowess was
matched by many other demons, but who could follow only the most
basic of instruction. Judged too stupid to bother with other worlds
ignored the lumbering giants who were losing ground fast in an
ever-changing universe. Their leaders leapt at the chance of long
term employment and the Vampires discovered that in exchange for
the offering the Aegai a vocation they were rewarded not only with
muscle, but an unswerving dedicated loyalty.

The Verkja—poor
cousin to the Varkja—were first considered for the position the
Aegai undertook, but their faults ruled them out of the mundane
work of patrol. What first might have appeared to be of benefit
actually turned out to be a problem with this burly demon. The
Verkja could pass almost as human during day or night as their mass
would even deter an armed perpetrator and their intelligence meant
they could follow orders of a more complex type. Unfortunately,
greater intelligence also came with issues that are more difficult
and those of the Verkja were often on very public display. They
loved to boast and would do it endlessly. Though they didn’t speak
to the human population, they would speak to each loudly in Giryg
making quiet patrol of the streets difficult. Their bulk served
another purpose—that of visual deterrent and so they became
bouncers guarding the doorways of the Vampire clubs. Forbidden to
speak aloud when human or Vampire were present the Verkja managed
that small task well, but once alone their idle boasts would burst
from them to echo down the empty streets.

Another who
served the Vampires was the almost silent obsessive demon who
scribed endlessly. The Scriptors came from a world that believed
history should be meticulously recorded and did so with frightening
vigour. As the centuries passed what started as observance became
compulsion and they recorded every waking moment while doing
nothing else to sustain their world. Fields lay bare, buildings
crumbled, children starved, and yet the scribes scribbled endlessly
as they documented the self-destruction of their race. Once the
Empire became aware of the proclivity of the scribes they found
themselves an invaluable niche as they recorded the details of many
worlds. The Ghuvk found their efficient yet unassuming demeanour
and lack of any demonstrable interest in anything but facts suited
the purposes of a Council desperate to maintain control of their
own world. The Scriptors became another integral part of the
Vampire nation as they kept track of unsanctioned Vampires, deviant
demons, and the traffic of the Reveal.

The Fhreh
demon, too small to be of military value or threat, were used by
many worlds for their organisational qualities. The small speckled
demon with his chattering teeth kept the wheels turning smoothly as
while Scriptors scribed—the Fhreh implemented. The Vampire nation
soon found this a useful demon to employ for once again their
obsessions kept them from being obvious targets of bribes. The
Fhreh, with their love of prestige would now and then wander off to
attempt difficult tasks for no more than the status of achievement.
This propensity to follow their cultural aspiration was the reason
the Empire didn’t take advantage of their organisational
qualities.

In order to
prevent their staff from wandering off the Vampires would create
impossible goals knowing it could keep a Fhreh busy for years.
Several of their staff had been chasing the Holy Grail in their
spare time for centuries and this challenge kept them firmly on
world. The Fhreh had limited eidetic memory similar to the Druqe
and kept track not only of the auctions, but also could relate at a
moment’s notice the location of Aegai, demon disturbance, and the
suspicion of a Revenant on the loose. The Fhreh had no interest in
the interior power struggles of whatever world they served and
administered to it calmly while politics raged around them.

Other higher
caste demons such as the Martyc and Varkja went about their affairs
careful not to upset the stability of the human society. They
understood the value of protecting the Veil of the Vampires and the
fragility of a world as paranoid as their own universe. The lower
caste demon whose blatant destructive behaviour showed a lack of
concern over the detrimental effects of their presence was dealt
with by a Vampire nation capable of ruthless expediency. While the
Vampires were satisfied to utilise demons with varied abilities,
apart from the Aegai who served Vampire on the human realm and the
Aunsin off world, there were no strong relationships between the
interacting worlds. Despite their interdependence and courteous
arrangements for the majority of demons—Vampires would always
remain no more than a mutation caused by happenstance.

**********

Time spent
with cats is never wasted.

Sigmund
Freud

A few days
later Zyre awoke to find the cat from their previous meeting using
her lap as a bed and she lay under the canopy of leaves enjoying
the contented purr of her companion. The cat, as with the child,
had not been fooled by her magical abilities nor did her overtures
of friendship go beyond settling upon the Elf with the sense of
entitlement that cats and Elves tended to possess. The sharp flick
of her tail noted the Vampiric stirrings of the house and Zyre
looked over to watch drawn curtains pull back from long narrow
windows. She had spent the last week annoying one Florian Ribeni
with remarks calculated to leave him either in a state of confused
panic or perplexed annoyance. The Vampires of Veraign had returned
for the Ball and the unexpected presence of an Elf had tempered
their reunion with caution. The preternatural beings lived with
knowledge and acceptance of demonic activity in their own world,
but an overt magical presence left them watching her from a careful
distance.

After
Florian—in the patronising exaggerated voice often used for those
disabled—had explained that not all Vampires chose to eat food Zyre
refrained from any more fruity additives. However, an Elf couldn’t
help but be an Elf. This often found her exchanging the blood
additions to their coffee for a hearty breakfast of fruits, breads,
syrups, and whatever else she could fit upon the long dining table.
While she played dumb for Florian she was well aware of the impact
of her actions, but she was enjoying herself too much to care about
Vampire sulks. In desperation Vampires then secreted themselves
upstairs in an attempt to avoid her persistent offers to share the
breakfast bounty. An apologetic Elf presented herself to
Estienne—contrite for offending the household since none would join
her in greeting the day. Estienne had not lived long enough to
approach becoming Aunsin without recognising the potential disaster
of magical mischief. She was too busy annoying him to notice his
stress at attempting not to respond to her magical warmth. Nor
would she realise that flushing out those in hiding by Heraldic
demand was his own self-protection, which allowed him to return to
hiding in his study.

Zyre found
Florian in the library pretending to read. As with all creatures of
vanity he was easily led into gossip, so she started with a topic
dear to his heart—himself.

Zyre poked the
uneasy Vampire. “Is your dress ready for the Ball?”

Florian
immediately assumed his speaking to a daft person face and
responded, “Evening wear thank you! I will be wearing a tailored
black suit with swallow tail coat, low cut vest, a mint cravat,
white shirt and white kid gloves.”

Instantly bored
by the descriptions the Elf didn’t absorb anything beyond the word
evening. By the time he had finished describing in meticulous
detail the gold stud of his cufflinks she had considered and
abandoned six different ways of tormenting him.

Zyre gave the
Vampire a sweet smile that set him off balance once again. “Will
there be many there?”

If there were a
struggle between keeping Vampire business secret and the
possibility to enjoy any form of schadenfreude—he embraced the
latter with obscene ease. Florian leaned forward and his pastel
green eyes lit up with conspiratorial delight.

“I heard Lyov
Cardei came back to see the little hussy who has Caden all in a
tizzy. She is so much trouble they pawned her off to Ardell to
learn some manners!”

Zyre had no
idea who Ardell or Lyov was, so she kept her face open with
astonishment at the news. She was not interested in Vampire
speculations, but gossip was often a great source of
information.

Florian
continued to prattle. “Everyone is wondering to see how she will
fare at the Ball since she is supposed to be Old World. If that’s
true at all—I mean what Old World’s left to wander the streets? Now
she has all of them chasing after her like a bitch in heat.”

She gathered
from his ramblings that the girl in question was the one Bryre of
Cardei had purchased and the thought of seeing how the Tyro fared
piqued her curiosity. He flowed from one vapid thought to another
until he dropped an offhand comment that caught her full
attention.

“If Lyov wasn’t
enough of a surprise—the Martyc has accepted his invitation! In
three hundred years never once has the Martyc accepted the invite
even though he is always given one out of protocol, but this one
sent back an RSVP! I heard the entire Ghuvk is running about like
headless chickens trying to work out his agenda. I can tell you his
agenda, to make as much trouble for Vampires as he can. Take well
you for instance—if it wasn’t for him then we wouldn’t have to deal
with your hiding out…”

Florian
continued his tactless chatter while Zyre’s mind raced in alarm at
the surprise he had revealed. Not only was her enjoyment of the
Ball going to be marred by a demon, but now she had actually to
think about boring stuff like whatever plots he was crafting with
his tedious assistant. There were several ways to end a
conversation as one could make a quick lie and although Elves could
prefabricate with the best of them making a coherent lie for a
purpose was not always possible. Another way was to be direct and
tell the person you must leave, but this would be tantamount to
being truthful or straightforward and Elves were allergic to both.
Then there was being annoying enough so that the other person was
pleased when you departed. Zyre skirted around her many options
then naturally chose the one that amused the most.

Her eyes
scanned the room as she interrupted his tirade against other
Houses. “What Vampires need be more demon friends from Reveal. This
would make them more fun for games—maybe if a Poqir taught them a
few tricks?”

Florian’s eyes
burned with anger as his face cleared of all humanity. “Vampires
require absolutely nothing,” his catty voiced menaced before he
removed himself to another room.

Zyre could have
reconsidered offending the only Vampire speaking to her, but news
of Vryn Dhaigre accepting his invite to the Ball had her mind
twitching. Sanctuary, in her case at least, needed to be more than
hiding out in a garden while talking to a cat.

About to wander
back into the kitchen she heard a van arrive and the subsequent
rush of Zhismi to the front vestibule had her retreat. She sat on
the upstairs landing looking through the banisters while they ran
the garment bags past her to the various bedrooms. Zyre would have
investigated the assorted gowns for bits, but curiosity drew her to
examine the bag that had been left hanging in the closet in her
bedroom. With the delicacy of a cat stealing a piece of cheese off
a plate she opened the bag to be overwhelmed by a well-known smell.
She was not overcome by the elegant beauty of the chiffon gown, or
the rich turquoise of the fabric, what assailed her senses was the
overriding scent of a demon. She could place this smell for she
knew it as the Druqe Afir, the one who would betray the trust of
his master, who would align himself with an Elf in order to control
a Folly. She carefully hung the dress in the window to air out the
stink of demon while an unexpected anger burned in her.

The Vampires,
unwilling to reveal any sense of anticipation drifted idly towards
their rooms, but their studied nonchalance didn’t fool their
magical observer and she could taste the undercurrent of excitement
dancing upon the atmosphere. Zyre didn’t even try to shake the
demon insult, so her ire had the unusual effect of having her fall
into something resembling a plan. She found Florian examining his
evening suit with a triumph that made no sense to a creature that
knew that the real beauty of the world existed outside the walls
that hid them. Florian wasn’t pleased by her persistent attachment
to him and the downturn of his mouth would have alerted one who
actually cared. Zyre smiled with a determination that left him
resigned not only to her unrelenting presence, but also to the
inevitable chaos that was bound to follow. She fondled the sleeve
of his suit causing him to snatch it away the way one removed a
precious vase from the patting of a child.

“We need to
drive,” she instructed a disinterested Florian.

His eyes stayed
riveted on his precious suit as he replied, “We have Zhismi for
that—ask one of the drivers.”

Zyre positioned
herself between the Vampire and his obsession forcing him to meet
her gaze. “I don’t want a Zhismi. I want you to drive me into
town.”

If Florian
wondered why an Elf capable of dissolving her way back to town
suddenly wished transportation—he didn’t get the chance to voice
his query. All protests were silenced by her remark that if he
didn’t wish to help her then perhaps Estienne would. She knew
mention of their Herald at this time was wonderful advantage. No
Vampire would risk being banished from the event of the year and
Florian would be terrified at the prospect.